


Luscious Nothingness

by TheVagabondBoy



Series: What A Fine Mess We Made [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood Drinking, Bloodlust, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Jeremy-centric, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Mind Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Mind Control, Rating May Change, Ryan-centric, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Tags May Change, Vampire Ryan, Vomiting, Warnings May Change, Witches, attempted comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVagabondBoy/pseuds/TheVagabondBoy
Summary: Will Jeremy become a vampire? Will he and Ryan finally make kissy faces at each other? How does the rest of the Crew handle things, now that the crisis has passed? Did the rest of the supernatural world take note of what happened in Los Santos? Does anyone want any more of Mama Dooley's secret-recipe-pancakes?**ON HIATUS, DUE TO WRITERS BLOCK**





	1. Chapter 1

Jeremy was still unconscious when Ryan made it to the penthouse. It was probably better that way, since Ryan collapsed as soon as the door closed behind them. He hit the floor and Jeremy’s dead-weight landed on top of him.

He just needed to collect himself for a moment. First the fight, then that run...he really hoped Michael and Gavin got there soon, with some blood.

_Oh, well!_ No time for any more dilly-dallying! Jeremy could wake up at any moment.

Ryan rolled the man off him, then used the wall for support as he got to his feet. He grabbed Jeremy’s wrist and got moving. Though he was quite sure Jeremy wouldn’t appreciate being dragged to Ryan’s room, the vampire didn’t have much of a choice. Dragging, was sadly the best he could do at the moment.

They made it to Ryan’s room. Ryan threw open his steamer trunk and started digging. He really should have unpacked when he had the chance; it would have made things so much easier. And he wouldn’t be getting blood on what was basically a box full of priceless historical artifacts. Oh, well, live and learn;  _ unpack as soon, and as quickly, as you can, so you don’t destroy your collection of priceless historical artifacts. _

The chains rattled and rustled as he pulled them out from the very bottom of the trunk. He hadn’t used them in quite some time. Hadn’t needed to. Last time he could remember putting them to good use was after Miles turned.

They were made of pure silver; shackles for hands and feet, as well as a bigger shackle to fit around the waist of the subject, and a heavy collar. The chains were covered in symbols, carved into the metal by Ryan himself. Something to strengthen them, something to weaken the subject bound by them, something to protect from magic. He could list them all, but he didn’t have that kind of time on his hands.

Ryan dragged Jeremy into the center of the room. He closed the chains around the bar in the ceiling, thanking himself for having that thing installed even though he had been almost certain he would never really have use for it. Boy, how wrong he was! The collar fit easily around Jeremy’s neck, the symbols making it shrink down until it was all tight and snug. Wouldn’t want the wearer to be able to slip them, would we? He got the human out of his jacket and shoes before putting the shackles on. Jeremy might be entering the turn, but Ryan still had to do something about those shrapnel wounds.

But they looked stable for the moment, and from observation, Ryan would say the same for Jeremy.

Ryan himself, though, was quickly traveling down the path from  _ critical condition _ to  _ untimely death. _ As fun as dying sounded, it would have to wait. If he wasn’t around to keep a turning Jeremy in check, the man would likely end up unwittingly slaughtering everyone in the penthouse upon his awakening, then work his way through the building, and ultimately out into the city.  _ And _ as delightful as a massacre did sound to Ryan’s ears, it too would have to wait. If Jeremy turned and no one was there to teach him control, he would undoubtedly go feral; his true self would pack its bags and go on a  _ long _ vacation, while his monster took the wheel.

Though as if being called to him by some magic, he heard the front door burst open and his crew-mates hurry inside, just as he himself was closing the door to his room.

_ “Ryan!” _ Jack shouted, chorused by three more voices.

“Ryan, where are you?!” Geoff added.

The vampire groaned softly. He covered his side still, the wound there was still too open for comfort.

“Here!” he called back. “My room!”

The Lads and Gents hurried through the penthouse to him. He could smell the fresh blood and verbena in the air from the moment the elevator doors had opened. Geoff carried a cardboard box, tall plants poking their green leaves and purple flowers out over the walls, and Gavin had a backpack slung over one shoulder.

As they all came running down the hallway, Ryan leaned against the wall. It didn’t quite register with him that he was sliding down it, until he was already sitting on the floor. Michael and Gavin appeared before him; Gavin started digging through the backpack, while Michael seemed to be helping Ryan to sit straight. It was a little difficult to say what the Jersey Lad was doing, things were getting...fuzzy.

A straw was pushed past Ryan’s lips, and he could taste the blood on it.  _ Thank all the Gods, old and new, known and unknown. _

It was like inhaling, after a month of holding his breath.

“Where’s Lil’ J?” Jack questioned sternly.

Ryan drank slowly for another few moments, until the bag was drained. Michael was holding it for him, up to his face.

“In there.” Ryan answered, with a meek gesture to the shining metal door.

He was already starting to feel better, just moments after getting that blood in him. Where he had felt as though all strength was being drained from him, he now felt only the warm light of life sing in his chest. Michael was his crutch once more, helping him to his feet and keeping him on them once he was there.

“He won’t wake up for a while.” Ryan continued. “Let’s...go to the kitchen. I’ll explain what happens now.”

With some additional help from Gavin, Ryan hobbled his way to the kitchen. Jack and Geoff were close behind, no doubt exchanging some meaningful looks.

Gavin handed him another bag when they made it to the kitchen. Ryan was glad to take it, and drank fast. The sooner he was all healed up, the better. He didn’t like this feeling; being weak, and vulnerable. That was not who he was. Weakness and vulnerability were human things, and he was no human. Thankfully, his body used his feed well. The worst injuries were being dealt with; in moments, he would be able to walk on his own. After that, the wound on his torso would close up. Then his eye would puzzle his itself back together again, and lastly, any of the less critical injuries would be handled.

Ryan shrugged out of his jacket. Instead of wasting time on the shirt, he ripped it to pieces and tossed it away. The humans bristled at the sight of his mangled body. He himself would likely have done the same, had he not been witness to many worse things through-out his life. With one hand over the gash in his side, he started looking through drawers. It would still be some time before it closed up on his own. As he needed both hands at the moment, something had to be done. In the junk drawer, which was filled to the brim with all manner of random things, he found just what he had been searching for; a stapler. So he stapled himself shut with ease, only mildly annoyed that that was something he would have to deal with later. From experience, he knew quite well that staples were especially difficult to remove from flesh.

Anyway, it was an issue for later. There were more pressing matters at hand.

“So, this is what happens now.” he said as he got to work.

He found a big bowl, which he set under the tap to fill.

“We wait for Jeremy to wake up. I inform him of the situation, then allow him to make a decision. If he chooses not to consume human blood, he will have to be locked way for roughly three days, at which point the vampire blood will have been expelled from his system and his body returns to being fully human. If he chooses to complete the turning, I will feed him from a bag, and he will be locked away for as long as is necessary for me to teach him control of his new state of being. But, once he drinks blood, what is done is done, and a bell once rung cannot be unrung.”

When the bowl was filled with cold water, he moved it to the counter top. He rifled through the junk drawer again, until he found a half-used box of latex gloves. As he gloved up, he glanced at his Crew. They looked...confused. Perhaps mildly disgusted by the display with the stapler, but mostly confused and puzzled.

He found a good, sharp knife, and a chopping board. Geoff had deposited the box of plants on the kitchen island; Ryan approached it with caution. The flowers and leaves stung his bare arm like nettles when he reached in to find one of the plastic pots. He chose a plant at random and pulled it from the bunch as quick as he could. No need to burn himself any more than necessary. It just made for more healing work, which was a waste of time.

The human appeared to be working through things in their minds, trying to understand how their world had so hastily been upturned. Ryan would try to offer them some sort of solace, but he had found it was usually better if people got to figure things out on their own, then come to him with any questions they may have, rather than him trying to explain the true world order in one fell swoop. That, he had found, only lead to more questions, more confusion, and ultimately more existential crises and more pondering upon the meaning of life, the Universe, and things as we know them.

He busied himself with stripping both leaves and flowers from the plant, instead of interrupting the deep thoughts of the humans. He was very careful not to injure the branches and stem of the plant; he would prefer to keep them alive for as long as possible. Always best to have verbena close at hand. He stripped only a handful of the thin branches and plucked about half the flowers. He chopped them up, quickly and neatly. And carefully, as not to accidentally pierce his gloves. Once it was more sludge than leaves, he scooped it into the bowl of water, which he then stirred slowly with a ladle.

Much as he had heard people did with cats, the water would be put into a spray bottle and used on Jeremy, should the need arise. It wouldn’t do an awful lot to him until the turn was complete, but it would burn him enough to correct behavior. Sadly, that was the only way Ryan knew of teaching newborns. All else was lost on them, wild and rabid and hungry and drunk on power as they were. Their minds went into overdrive, struggling to make sense of the sights and scents and sounds, and to control their new strength and speed.

He remembered when he was newborn. His Sire had been fond of chaos; or so Ryan assumed, at least. His mouth had been forced open and blood dripped onto his tongue, first vampire then human, and that was all. Once the deed was done, his Sire was nowhere to be found. Ryan was lucky he had been out on a hunt, far away from his village. If he hadn’t been, he could only imagine the kind of bloodbath he would have made. But the monster settled for some deer, and other woodland creatures. Though as he thought about it, perhaps a bloodbath would have been preferable. He no doubt would have killed Máechann then, too.

But the past was the past. No use dwelling on it now, he supposed.

_ “Hey!” _

Ryan froze.

_ “Hey! Hey, where am I?! Guys?! Geoff? Ryan? Anyone?!” _

Jeremy was awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go! Long chapter to start us off with  
> enjoy, my dudes  
> <3


	2. Chapter 2

Jeremy’s heart skipped when Ryan stepped into the room.

“Ryan?” the human said. “What’s happening? Why-Why ‘m I all chained up? Is everyone okay? Did...did I hurt anyone?”

Ryan closed the door. He forced a smile onto his face as he turned to Jeremy. He looked scared. Smelled like it too. His scent was changing, though. It had once been overflowing with the juicy sweetness of life, but...it was turning sour. Bitter, almost. Death was consuming it; the stink of rotting flesh ate up that sweetness. He nearly gagged on it. That scent coming from Jeremy, of all people...Gods, it made him sick. How could he have let this happen?

“It’s okay, Jeremy.” Ryan assured.

He approached carefully, hands clearly visible. The monster would be in the middle of crawling into existence, out of the darkest corner of Jeremy’s mind. If it thought Ryan was there to attack...Ryan didn’t want to think too hard about it.

“I know you’re confused, and scared. But let’s just sit down, okay? And I’ll explain what’s going on.”

Jeremy’s breathing was unstable; fast and shallow and unmeasured. He nodded, though. He tried to sit down on his own, but quickly stopped himself, wincing in pain. Ryan was at his side in no time at all. With one arm at Jeremy’s uninjured side and a steady grip on the chains, Ryan helped lower him to the floor. He zipped back to the door a moment later. As he had asked, the others had left a first aid kit and the verbena water just outside his door. He could hear them in the living room. They weren’t talking. It sounded as though they were just...sitting there. Thinking and staring.

He closed and locked the door, then sat down next to Jeremy.

“Everyone is alright.”

The human deflated with relief at that. The hands that had been clenched tightly at his sides, relaxed.

“Gavin and Michael will both have some bruises. Maybe as much as a black eye on Michael’s part.” Ryan said. “Other than that, you didn’t hurt anyone. And no one is angry at you, or anything of the sort. We know Máechann compelled you.”

Jeremy was crying. With his hands tied to his sides, he tried to wipe the tears away by rubbing his face against his shoulders. But when that failed, Ryan reached out. He dried the tears with a tissue from the kit, and said nothing about it. Under the circumstances, crying seemed like a pretty apt reaction.

“Sh-She just...she just walked up to me on the street one day, a-and started talking, and I couldn’t m-move or think or say anything.” he tried to explain. “And she told me all this stuff, and said I couldn’t tell anyone. A-And I wanted to! Wanted to say somethin’ but e-every time I tried, I...I couldn’t make the words.”

Ryan continued to dab at his cheeks whenever it was necessary, nodding along slowly as Jeremy spoke.

“I understand.” he said, once it seemed Jeremy was done for the moment. “The others do too. She forced you to do these things, things you didn’t want to do. No one blames you for it.”

_ “But I hurt Gavin! And I hurt Michael!” _ Jeremy argued, trying to fight the chains. “And I  _ tried _ to hurt Geoff and Jack!”

Ryan lay his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, hoping to ground him through touch.

“But those actions were not yours. They were hers. It was she who did them harm, not you. You were only the weapon.”

*

He shook his head.

It didn’t matter that he was  _ only the weapon. _ He hurt Michael and Gavin. He hurt them, made them bleed. How could he do that? How could he let that happen? How could he let himself be used like that?

He should’ve been prepared! Should’ve never looked that bitch in the eye! Should’ve never let her in his head! He lied to everyone he cared about, and hurt them! He pointed the gun at  _ his friends. _ How was he supposed to live with that? How was he supposed to trust himself again? How could he do anything, when his hands were shaking like this?

_ “Fuck!” _ he swore when pain stabbed in his side.

His head snapped around, eyes fixing on Ryan. He had a bloody splinter in his hand, covering Jeremy’s wound with a cotton pad.

“Sorry.” he said. “That was the biggest piece. I thought it best to get it out while you were distracted.”

Hm, Jeremy supposed he couldn’t really argue with that. He rather not sit through the anticipation. That, was almost as bad as the pain itself.

“What’s happening, V?” Jeremy asked. “Why the hell am I in chains?”

The vampire exhaled slowly. He set the splinter aside.

“What do you remember? From before you passed out.”

There wasn’t much. He could see himself riding straight at the Kuruma, and the lads on their bikes. Then...he crashed. Right? Things got a little blurry after that, which, now that he thought about it, was kind of understandable.

_ “Ow!” _

Another splinter...

He crashed, and then...then Michael was there. And Gavin. It felt so messy in his head; like he was watching TV, but static kept blurring the screen and making the images all fuzzy and distorted.

He swore again, biting his cheek, clenching his fists, scrunching up his nose, when Ryan continued to pull splinters.

They...they fought; he and Gavin and Michael. They were fighting. When he glanced down at his hands, his knuckles were bruised and scraped, dry blood staining his fingers. And then...

Then that monster.  _ Meg _ ...she grabbed him. And it was hard to breath, he remembered that.

“She was holding me.” he said, tensing and wincing then, when a few more splinters were pulled in rapid succession. “Then...that’s it. I think.”

Ryan hummed softly. He pulled one more piece, this one from Jeremy’s arm, with a look of deep rumination on his face.

“She...fed you her blood.”

Jeremy hissed; cold disinfectant, which smelled exactly like hospitals do, stung his wounds. He tried not to move. He knew it had to be done. He knew an infection hurt a lost wore than the short, sharp sting it took to prevent it.

Ryan’s words circled around his head, like little cartoon birds and stars. She fed him blood.  _ Her _ blood. Was he...? Did that mean...? It did, didn’t it? He remembered Ryan’s stories, about being turned and about turning Meg and Miles...it was the blood. They were fed blood and that’s what turned them.

Oh, God...oh, no. Oh, God, no, no, no. This couldn’t be happening! Jeremy was going to become a vampire? It couldn’t be real. It was a dream. It was just some fucked up fever dream, and any minute now, he was going to wake up and everything would be normal again! There’d be no vampires, no Meg to fuck with his head, Ryan would still just be V with the skull mask and the weird aversion to the sun and  _ nothing else, _ and everything would be  _ normal! _ Because this was the real world, and vampires didn’t exist in  _ the real world; _ they were made up, figments of the imagination, old stories and folklore, some old wives tale to scare the kids,  _ nothing more! _ Just stories.

But he could feel it, couldn’t he?

It was crawling around inside him, like ants and spiders under his skin.  _ This infection, this sickness, this disease, _ crept through him, killing him and turning him cell by cell. It was clawing at him. Pulling him under. He could feel it. The cold sat in his chest, circling around his heart, just waiting to close in and take over.

“But all is not lost, Jeremy.”

A soft hand rested against his cheek, turning his head back to Ryan again.

“You haven’t consumed human blood. So you can make a choice.”

Wait. There...was a choice?

“If you want to stay human, you will be locked in here for three days. Until Máechann’s blood leaves your system. It will be hard. Every bone in your body will burn, and hurt, and ache for blood. You will be in pain for every moment of every day. But I will help you through it.

“Or, if you wish to become a vampire...I will feed you, from a bag. Then, when the turn is complete, we will stay in here for as long as is necessary. I’ll teach you to control it. I won’t let you hurt our friends.”

Jeremy stared at Ryan.

A cold thumb traced Jeremy’s bottom lip. Ryan wasn’t looking him in the eyes, but instead had his one uncovered eye fixed on those lips. He wondered what Ryan was thinking in that moment.

God, he was beautiful. Jeremy could still hardly believe his eyes.

That little voice in his head, the one who was brash and stupid and didn’t think things through, was  _ begging _ him to just  _ kiss him already! _

And, as he was wont to do, Jeremy listened to that voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY FEELINGS


	3. Chapter 3

It was a shy kiss.

There was something almost virginal about it; that shyness and uncertainty, all wavering confidence and bubbling curiosity, and a strange rush, which melted into a weird emotion that could only be described with a breathless  _ wow. _

Ryan’s brain stopped working.

Jeremy was kissing him. Lips that tasted like blood and sand, pressed to his own.

It didn’t deepen. It didn’t have to. It was perfect the way it was; the two of them meeting each other halfway, in a way Ryan wasn’t sure he had ever experienced before.

When they parted, Ryan, who had no need for air, was out of breath. With something so simple as a kiss, Jeremy had stolen the air from his lungs, and made him long for the days when he actually needed it; the days where a kiss like that would have made his heart flutter and his cheeks blush red.

Jeremy, though, was still human enough for the both of them. Ryan heard his heart pound like jackhammer, and his breathing stagger. His cheeks bloomed in pink, then turned almost as red as roses. His eyes were wide, too; he stared at Ryan like he hung the moon, the was such  _ wonder, disbelief, amazement, _ in him. How was it possible for a set of eyes to say so much?

Ryan was a fucking coward.

“I should let the others know how you’re doing.”

He flit out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

That was stupid.

His back was against the door; Jeremy was inside, his heart racing away and his breath faltering and the salt of tears was in the air.

That was very stupid. Running out, that is. Ryan was stupid. Ryan was stupid for running out. He shouldn’t have done that. He should have stayed and opened his coward mouth and told Jeremy that...that it was okay. That the kiss was okay and they were okay, and he would happily do more of the kissing if Jeremy was so inclined as to allow him to do so.

_ Ha! You’re an idiot. _

Okay, monster. Wow. First of all, rude. Second of all, this is a monologue. Not a dialog.

_ Monster is not one who kissed and ran. _

True. Still rude.

_ True always says monster has no manners. Monster lives up to expectations. _

You-...you’re-...I-...

_ Monster got your tongue? Must be, soldier human certainly didn’t get it. _

I am not even going to dignify that with a response.

Ryan sighed to himself, monster giggled in the back of his mind. He remembered now why he always tried to avoid talking to the monster. It was an asshole.

He moved to the living room. The humans all looked up when he entered. They were eager to know anything about the condition of their friend. Ryan sat down. He held his side while he lowered himself into his armchair, hoping to keep the staples from ripping him open again.

“He’s okay.” he said.

The room seemed to take a collective breath of relief.

“He’s calm, for now. I don’t think the turning has fully taken hold of him yet, so he still has his composure. From here, it gets worse before it gets better.”

Geoff scrubbed his hands over his face, messing up his waxed mustache but didn’t appear to take any note of this.

“I want you to tell us  _ everything.” _ he said.

He had that firm voice again; the one he seemed to reserve for Ryan, and Ryan alone.

“You’re going to explain every single goddamn step of  _ the turn,” _ he spat. ”-and I want updates on Jeremy’s condition every hour, on the hour.”

Ryan gave a curt nod. “You have my word. I’ll keep you appraised.” he swore. “As for the turn...

“It’s like a disease. He’s still in the incubation period, so to say. It’ll have rooted itself in him in a few hours. He will be in unimaginable pain. It starts slowly. The longer he goes without feeding, the worse it gets. He will be sick. Fever, vomiting, hallucinations, anxiety, paranoia, mood-swings. There will be a lot of screaming. By the end of it, I imagine he will want nothing rather than to die.”

They seemed to pale with every word.

It was a little hard for him to keep talking. He never wanted this. Never wanted any of them to have to go through that. And Jeremy, of all people...was Ryan even going to be able to be the strong one in this? To just sit idly by, while Jeremy writhed and wailed in pain right in front of him? He never wanted to see Jeremy hurt, and now he would do nothing else for days on end.

“Once his immune system eat away the disease, to continue the metaphor, he will be weak. He’ll have to rest for some time, and recover slowly, but other than that, he will be a perfectly healthy human.”

“And...if he wants to turn?” Gavin asked.

When he looked at the Brit, he looked much older than he was; they all did, in a way. Fear and worry twisted their faces, deepened the bags under their eyes, made them look tired and worn.

“The first feed...it will be the best thing he has ever known, and ever will know. It is, in one word, ecstasy. Here, too, it gets worse before it gets better. He’ll be...uncontrolled. He’ll be like a child again, trying to learn how to interact with the world. He has to learn how to touch without breaking, hold without crushing, walk without flitting. And with his senses heightened...he’ll need dark, quiet, as few smells as possible. Too many sensory inputs at once, it could drive him insane. I would suggest that if he wants to turn, I knock him out for a while, and take him away from here.”

“To where?”

“I’m not sure.”

*

Jeremy stared at the blank walls, the tiled floor.

He felt...empty.

It was weird. There was so much to think about, but his mind was as blank as the walls. Where was he supposed to start? So many things seemed to be happening all at once, and he was at a loss for words.

Vampires...

They were real. They were actually  _ real. _ And he should know, he was turning into one. Christ...he was turning into a vampire. Fuck. He did  _ not _ see that coming. On the list things he expected from his life,  _ turning into a fucking vampire _ didn’t even make the cut!

But it was okay, right? Ryan said he just had to not drink any blood, and he’d stay human. That didn’t sound too hard. Ryan was going to keep him locked in there, in chains, so it wasn’t like he was  _ accidentally _ going to drink some blood, or anything! He just...had to wait it out. Just wait it out. It would pass, and he’d be fine. He’d be totally fine. Super fine.

The locks clanged, he winced at the noise. That was louder than he remembered. He looked away when Ryan entered.

God, he was so stupid!  _ Why _ did he have to kiss him? Couldn’t he just have waited until  _ after _ they weren’t locked up together anymore? At least then, Jeremy could run away from his problems and ignore the fact that Ryan probably hated him now. What the hell was he thinking?

“Jeremy?”

He snapped out of his head. Had Ryan been talking? He sat kneeled before Jeremy, dressed in fresh, clean clothes.

“Yeah. Were you saying something?” he asked. “Sorry. I was...thinking.”

Ryan nodded. “I understand. How are you feeling?” he asked.

Jeremy cast his eyes to his feet, staring at the shackles around his ankles. “Okay. Head kinda hurts, I guess.” he said. “Hungry. Thirsty.”

“I can bring you something, if you want.” the vampire offered.

The man shook his head. “No. I think...my stomach’s not over all this yet. Maybe later.” he said.

“Alright. I have to go out for a bit.” Ryan informed. “I have to go to Miles’ apartment. Before his coworkers notice he’s missing. I need to clean out anything...unsuitable for human eyes. It will take only an hour.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to get your laptop? I could put on a movie, or some music maybe.”

“No. I’m gonna...sleep. I think. I’m exhausted.”

Ryan’s hand appeared at the back of Jeremy’s neck. The intent was obvious. Jeremy leaned back, and allowed Ryan to lower him gently to lie across the big bear pelt.

“Would you like a pillow and blankets?”

“No.”

“Anything else then?”

Jeremy shook his head again. He just wanted to sleep, and hope that when he woke up, he’d be in his bed and all of this was just a  _ really _ fucked up dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have several emotions about this fic, way more than i had planned on when i started writing Urban Magic


	4. Chapter 4

Ryan refused to breathe.

He stood outside the door to Miles’ apartment. The peephole seemed to stare at him, a lone eye of judgment. His hands were shaking. He had to bite his cheek until it bled just to steady them, so he could pick the lock.

It was a small place; one bedroom, one bathroom, not that Miles had had a need for either.

The living room was likely the largest room in the place. There was a big couch, piled high with pillows and blankets, and a huge TV on the wall. Ryan couldn’t name all the game consoles that were set up under the TV, nor did he know much of the games that filled the bookcase beside it. There had to be over a hundred games there. Hm, well, he supposed they all needed something to occupy their time, since they didn’t have to sleep. Against his better judgment, Ryan sniffed at the bookcase. Plastic, fresh paper, nothing special. Nothing hidden there. It smelled so much like Miles it hurt.

The bedroom was decorated with all sorts of art and objects Ryan didn’t know. He could guess, though; video games, movies, TV shows. Nothing incriminating. The bed had fresh sheets, and minimal use. The mattress felt normal, nothing unusual inside it. Nothing under the bed, either. The only thing on the nightstand was a picture frame; in it, was a paling photo of some people Ryan didn’t recognize, standing in front of a small house. The woman had a baby in her arms, and the man had a small boy on his shoulders. They were all smiling. Miles’ family. Ryan took it.

The closet was filled only with clothes and beddings; nothing pertinent to Ryan’s objective. The bathroom was the same. Clean towels, barely used shower products, some of that hair gel that smelled like coco butter. Gods, that smell had been ingrained in Miles’ scent for years.

The kitchen was clean. Beer and blood bags in the fridge, a few glasses in the cupboard, an ungodly amount of candy and chips were loaded into the pantry. He would have to grab those blood bags on his way out. He closed the door again, eyeing the yellow sticky note placed on the front.

_ find sauce, tell R _

_ $$$ for deal but maybe favor-favor _

_ discuss with sauce _

 

Sauce? It had to be a person, considering that last line. And Miles had obviously wanted to find them, and talk to Ryan about them. But what kind of deal was he on about? He put the note in his pocket. He could figure it out later.

The office was decorated much like the bedroom, with all sorts of art and toys around, though Miles would likely have objected to him calling them toys. There was an old leather suitcase nestled in behind the door. Customs tags, a lot of them, dating all the way back to 1953. Yes, this was it. Miles’ own little hoard of memories. Ryan felt a little bad when he opened it; like he was intruding on Miles’ privacy.

Old journals, stacks of photos, all sorts of bits and bobs that carried no weight to Ryan but had no doubt meant the world to Miles. It was strange to look at it all. To think about how that boy had been a ninety year old man.

Ryan moved away from the suitcase. He couldn’t waste time here. He missed Miles, but the living needed him.

He grabbed the laptop that sat on the desk. He plucked the side panel off the desktop computer, and removed the hard drives. Best not to chance anything. There seemed to be nothing pertinent in any of the desk drawers, just the usual crap. Though, when he opened the last drawer, he was mildly surprised. A stack of manila folders, with the LSPD logo on the front. Curious. He flipped through them for a moment. He had to smile at the contents. They were copies of the LSPD files on the Fakes; all the main six, a few from the B Team that had been successfully linked to the enterprise, one or two of the outside contractors they brought in at times. The files all seemed perfectly up to date, as well. Hm, so Miles had been keeping an eye on things. Well, Ryan couldn’t say he was disappointed; he taught the boy well.

He packed everything into the suitcase. He found a plastic bag in the kitchen, into which he loaded the blood bags from the fridge.

He locked the door on his way out, and that was the whole of it.

Ryan would miss him.

*

_ Fuck, _ his head was pounding. It felt like someone was wailing on him with a fucking baseball bat. The ache bled from his skull down his spine, into his whole body. It hurt to breathe. Hurt to live. Hurt to exist.

He was dying. He had to be.

The room was spinning. Shapes and lights and colors traipsed around in front of his eyes. They were blinking in and out of the world, dizzying him. What was happening? He was falling from space, the stars danced, he tasted ozone and clouds. He was floating, drifting around in the sky.

What was that noise, that music?

It washed over him and it felt good, and was that real or was it in his head? He couldn’t tell, but it didn’t feel like it mattered. Did anything matter? He was just floating and flying and music drifted through the air like a flock of birds.

“Jeremy?”

Who was that? God, he was so dizzy, everything was blurry. That voice was like the music; word-birds circling around his head.

“Jeremy, can you hear me?”

Uch, he was floating and spinning and tumbling and  _ shit, _ he was going to throw up if it didn’t stop soon.

Something cold and wet ran over his face, water dripping into his mouth. Rain on his face, falling from the sky into the ocean. Oh, no, no, no, no, he was drowning! Couldn’t move, couldn’t swim, water crushing down on him, couldn’t breathe, so cold. Was that him screaming? Why couldn’t he move?!

It was so heavy, the water. It pressed down on him, crushed his body and squeezed the air and the life out of him. Sinking, sinking, sinking, he was sinking further and further for every moment, and he couldn’t stop it. It felt heavy. It felt like nothing at all.

*

Ryan tried to hold Jeremy down, keep him from hurting himself.

He fought the chains and Ryan’s hands. He screamed and begged. The words slurred together; something about drowning and choking. He was already hallucinating. His skin was burning hot. The fever was running higher and higher by the second.

Ryan grabbed the hand towel from its soak again. He rested it on Jeremy’s head and hoped it helped to lower the fever. Jeremy screamed, head thrashing to get away from what was drowning him. Ryan didn’t  _ want _ to make the hallucinations worse, but he had to choose; that, or the fever, and in the long run, the fever did more damage than any dreams it caused.

He heard the humans stomach gurgle, and his throat twitch. He was ready with a bucket, thankfully. He had barely gotten Jeremy sitting up and the bucket under his chin, before the man started emptying his stomach. It smelled horrid; half-digested food and stomach acid mixing into something almost putrid. Once it appeared Jeremy was finished, Ryan laid him down on his side. He dried his face off and swabbed the cold towel over him again. Jeremy seemed to have passed out for the moment, at least, so there was that.

It was going to be a long three days. 


	5. Chapter 5

“How’s he doin’?”

It was Michael’s voice hat broke Ryan from his thoughts.

“He could be worse.” Ryan said.

He didn’t want to scare them, but Jeremy’s condition had declined rapidly. He was doing worse than Ryan had anticipated. Ryan really hoped this was the  _ ‘it gets worse’ _ phase, and the  _ ‘it gets better’ _ phase hit soon. But he knew, they were still in the first 24 hours. There was plenty of room for things to get even worse, if Jeremy did decide to remain human.

“We heard him.” Michael said.

The boy sat down on one of the barstools by the kitchen island. He wrung his hands, gaze flickering all around the room.

“He was screamin’.”

Ryan nodded. He picked staples from his side. He wiggled Gavin’s sleeve from his head, blinking his eye slowly and getting it used to the low light in the kitchen. It felt good to be back to the full extent of his senses.

“Yes, he was...hallucinating. The fever is making him confused, and scared. He’s unconscious at the moment.”

Michael hummed. “Feels weird.” he said. “Y’know, not bein’ able to see him. I mean, I know it’s for our safety and stuff, but...”

“You worry.”

The boy nodded solemnly.

“It’s late. You should try to sleep.” Ryan urged. “After all that had happened, you must be exhausted.”

“Yeah...” Michael said, almost absentmindedly.

He slid off his stool. Ryan watched him for a moment, shuffling away down the hallway to the bedrooms.

Ryan really hoped he was right about Jeremy.

*

The rain was red.

The sky was red.

The ground was red.

And his hands, when he raised them to wipe the tears from his eyes, even his hands were red.

The world was steeped in blood and he wanted to taste it. Wanted to look up and open his mouth to the rain and swallow an ocean.

Red figures moved in front of him. They danced so beautifully, so tantalizingly. If only he could reach out and touch them...

If only he could put his lips to those long, swan-like necks and drink his fill until there was nothing left. His mouth watered, his body ached with thirst. He crawled through a desert to find a well of blood to fall into and drown himself in. But it wouldn’t be drowning. It would be  _ rebirth. _ It would be life everlasting. It would be...unending perfection.

A voice, one he couldn’t tell from his own, whispered in his ear. It whispered and hummed and growled and sang for blood.

_ Surrender. Surrender to it, to me, to thirst. I can take care. I can protect. I can feed you. We can be one, we are one. You and I, us, we are one and the same. _

Really? We...we’re the same? I’m so hungry...I feel like I’m dying.

_ I know. Give yourself to me, I will feed us both. _

I don’t know...

_ Don’t you want to feed? Don’t you want to live? _

I’m...I’m not sure.

_ Think! Could watch history be made! Could live the future! Could do what people dreamed of since the beginning! Could be a god among men. _

But..

_ You could be with ink man forever. _

Ink man? You mean Ryan?

_ Yes! Could be with him forever! If you stay human, you’ll grown old and weak and die. He’ll have to watch. _

But he’s not...he doesn’t...

_ Love you? Lust for you like a bitch in heat? But he does. _

What?

_ Smell him. Wants you like you want him. More than you want him. _

I don’t-

“Jeremy?”

“Ryan?”

Was that his voice? He sounded so...tired. And worn out, and hoarse.

Jeremy opened his eyes.

He was on the floor. Ryan sat before him, looking down at him with a patient expression on his face.

“Jeremy, what color is your hair?”

What kind of question was that?

“Red. It’s red. On top. Brown...on the sides.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”  


They were a little fuzzy, as if someone was messing with the focus setting on his eyes; Ryan’s hand slid in and out of blurriness. He could see his hand and the fingers he held up, but counting them was difficult. He tried his hardest, to make his eyes see more clearly.

“Three. I think. Yeah...yeah, three.”

“You’re lucid. That’s a relief. Do you want to sit up? You should drink some water.”

Jeremy felt like he nodded. He thought he did, but he wasn’t really sure. He must have, though, since two hands took hold of him a moment later. They did most of the work, picking him up from where he lay and sitting him up. Ryan pulled him to his side, letting Jeremy lean on him. His head rested on Ryan’s shoulder, and an arm around him kept him from slipping to the floor again.

He breathed as deep as he could, because the voice was still telling him to.

Smelled like sweat and vomit. And...and sugar. No, wait...not sugar. But...sort of like candy floss and syrup, and freshly picked peaches, and crushed mint leaves. There was something heavier there too. Something almost basal. It spoke to him. It made him hunger.

It was a weird scent; both sharp and blunt at the same time. It hit Jeremy like a punch in the gut, and a knife in the chest. He wanted it. He needed it, more punches and more knives. It was heady and heavy; thick as smoke, a deep fog that seemed to drown the room. He could barely breathe through it. It seemed to fill him up.

*

Jeremy drank deep and long. It was a relief to see. Hopefully, if he was hydrated enough, the fever would go down too, and maybe Ryan could even talk him into eating something.

He helped him lay down again, once he had emptied the pitcher of water Ryan had brought.

“Try to stay awake for a little bit. We need to talk about things.”

Jeremy nodded. He was shaking. Fever, cold sweats.

“You need to decide. Human, or vampire.”

“I...don’t know.”

“I know it’s a hard choice to make, but you need to make it.”

“There’s a v-voice. In m-my head. It talks to me. Am...am I goin’ crazy?”

Ryan smoothed out the stark red hair on Jeremy’s head, which had become a mess with sweat. He hated having to watch Jeremy like this; another victim of Ryan’s mistake. He wanted to end the suffering, but that would mean killing Jeremy. And Ryan would never in his life, be able to bring himself to do that.

“No. You’re not going crazy. That’s your monster. If you complete the turn, it will be just another part of you. One you have to learn to control. But if you stay human, you and it will melt back together. The voice will go away.”

He was silent. Ryan waited and watched. He hoped Jeremy hadn’t slipped back into his fever dreams. Ryan needed to hear a decision on this, as soon as possible. Before Jeremy went too deep into it and couldn’t keep a rational thought in his head.

Sure, if they made it through this, passed the turning without completing it, and Jeremy realized afterwards that he had wanted to complete it...it was just tedious. Ryan wasn’t even sure the human body could go through the turning process again. Maybe it was one and done. He didn’t know.

“I’m...I’m not sure.”

*

The voice, the monster, was right, wasn’t it?

Eternal life...it was tempting. And with the kind of life he lead at the moment, not being able to die was a definite advantage.

But it would mean giving up his humanity. Death was what made them human, right? The pressure of living in the short time they were given. It was what pushed people to achieve and evolve.

But if he lived forever, he could watch it happen; watch people achieve and evolve for as long as he wanted to! What amazing things he would see...the monster was right. He could live the future and watch as history was made.

He could travel the world. See all of it, every inch of it and not skip a single one. He could go sand-boarding in the Sahara, skiing down Everest, rollerskating on the Great Wall of China, diving to the deepest realms of the ocean, running with the wild animals on the Savannah, and be eternally young as he did it all.

It was tempting,  _ goddamn, _ it was  _ tempting. _

And...even if the voice was wrong about Ryan, at least Jeremy would get to be his friend for forever. The thought hurt, but...God, it would be enough. It would be more than enough.

“Do it.”

He swallowed around the knot in his throat.

“I want it. Turn me.”


	6. Chapter 6

Jeremy was lucid again. For the first time in...God,  _ too many _ hours. At least he thought he was lucid. He felt lucid. Sort of.

It also kind of felt like someone had made him do a literal ton of acid, so maybe he wasn’t all that lucid, after all.

Ryan, or a shape that reminded him of Ryan, helped him to his feet. The chain between his ankles was just long enough for him to be able to  _ kind of _ walk. He had to take small steps, move slowly, but hey, at least he was walking on his own.

The shape that looked somewhat akin to Ryan put something on his face, some kind of mask. A boxer’s mouth-guard was put into his mouth, and he was told to bite down on it. The rubber tasted like old dust. He could feel thin cracks in the material when he ran his tongue over it. The metal bands that were attached to the mouth-guard fit around his head, making it impossible to spit out the bit. They circled around from his mouth to the back of his head where they met with a third band, which ran over his head and down his forehead; it split in two between his eyes, to leave room for his nose, and met the first circlet again, near the corner for his mouth.

There was a small tug on his collar, and he took it as an order to move. The shape that looked more or less like Ryan by the second, guided him with the chain.

*

He would have preferred to wrap Jeremy in chains, and carry him out of the building. He couldn’t, though. The human had screamed his lungs out when Ryan tried to lift him; his body was starting to die, starting to accept the undeath.

They would walk until Jeremy couldn’t walk anymore, or until they got out of the building; whichever came first.

Ryan walked backwards, eyes fixed on his charge. The backpack he wore felt like it weighed a ton; the blood bags were like bricks of lead.

He had to be ready to act, if Jeremy lashed out in search of someone to consume. The bit gag would do a lot to protect the other humans, but Jeremy would still be able to do a lot of damage, even without the use of his mouth and teeth. They had all insisted on staying to see Jeremy off, despite Ryan’s recommendations to do otherwise. At the moment, his priority had to be the humans who still lived, not Jeremy.

If he acted out, Ryan had to stop him. By any means necessary, as much as it pained him.

They came through to the kitchen. Jeremy staggered and stumbled. The sweat poured off him. The fever was just getting worse and worse. His eyes were bloodshot and blown wide, darting around in search of any possible threat. The anxiety and the paranoia were setting in; they would make him jump at the smallest sound, anything to drive him to kill and feed.

“Stay back.” Ryan ordered. “No sudden moves.”

The others were behind him, in the dining room.

_ “Christ...” _ someone cursed.

Jeremy’s eyes snapped to the voice, staring past Ryan. His nose twitched as he searched the air. Ryan knew what he was smelling; life, youth, fresh blood.

Those eyes, those breathtaking eyes, filled with darkness. The pupils exploded. The blackness ate up everything else, and left nothing behind.

Ryan snapped his fingers and waved his hand at Jeremy. “Hey, hey, hey! Eyes on me!” he said. “On me!”

Jeremy barely glanced at him. He was dead after all, he was of no interest to Jeremy at the moment. The man staggered forward, eyes still fixed on some place behind Ryan. As he tried to pass, Ryan grabbed him by the bit gag. The bands were just loose enough for him to get hold of it. The jerking motion to make him stop, snapped Jeremy’s eyes to Ryan. The vampire let his own eyes bleed into voids. A growl sat deep in his chest, and seemed to make the very air around him quiver in fear.

A show of power, of dominance.

Something to show the unborn one he was not at the top of the food chain yet.

Jeremy hesitated. For a second, Ryan feared he would be challenged. If he was challenged and did  _ not _ kill his foe, the foe in question may as well have killed  _ him; _ the foe would always think him weak, unfit to lead anything and anyone, because he did not have the strength to kill to keep his crown, proverbial as it may be.

But the unborn caved. He turned his eyes downward, whined with nothing but meekness, and tried to display his throat. Submission.

Ryan was glad for it. He took no pleasure in the thought of having to hurt a dear friend.

With a tight grip on the band of the gag and another on the leash chain, Ryan still had to all but drag Jeremy away.

*

He had nearly forgotten about the bunker at the base of Chilliad.

He had sniffed it out quite soon after first getting to the city, but had decided to keep his distance from it; save it for a ‘last resort’ sort of situation. While this wasn’t that kind of situation, it was the best place Ryan could think of to bring Jeremy.

Thirty feet under the surface, walls made of two feet of cement and steel plating, a heavy blast door cordoning them off from the rest of the world. As far as birthplaces went, it was the best they could do on such short notice.

Jeremy didn’t seem to care.

The paranoia was getting worse, and the hallucinations weren’t helping. Ryan had almost dropped him,  _ several times, _ on the run out to the bunker; he had been kicking and screaming and crying about voices in his head and monsters coming after him. It was muffled by the gag, of course, but Ryan had been able to make out enough of his words to understand.

He lead Jeremy into the main room of the bunker. It was some twenty by twenty feet of bare concrete. There was a  _ not so pleasant looking _ toilet mounted in one corner, and Ryan was  _ really _ glad neither of them would have to use it because he wasn’t sure he could live through the stink of a filling septic tank. There was a small sink beside the toilet, with a cracked mirror hanging above it. The only other furniture there was a fridge that had seen better days. He had to get the generator going before he could get the thing working.

Ryan laid Jeremy down on the blanket he had brought with him; he clipped the leash into the large wall anchor that was left over from the days where the place had been furnished. It was molded into the concrete, so he was moderately confident Jeremy wouldn’t be able to rip it out. He seemed pleased, at least, to be let out of the gag.

“Hey, how is he?” Jack asked as soon as she picked up the call.

Ryan hummed. He stood over the bunker hatch, which was the only way he would get a signal. He focused an ear down to where his charge lay; Jeremy was gasping for air, moaning senseless words in a tired panic.

“He’s getting worse, but...I plan on feeding him as soon as you and I are done.” Ryan said. “I just...wanted to let you know. We’re safe. He won’t be able to hurt anyone here.”

“Where are you?” Geoff cut in.

Hm, so he was on speaker.

“I can’t say.”

It was best if he didn’t. It they knew, they may be tempted to seek him and Jeremy out. It may be with good intentions, an attempt to help a friend in desperate need, but with a newborn...Ryan didn’t want to picture what a horror it would be.

“I will keep you updated.”

“How long will this take?” Jack asked.

Ryan could hear the worry in her voice with ease.

“The turn itself doesn’t take long. An hour, at most. It’ the relearn that takes time. He has to be able to control himself. If he does not, he could kill you. All of you. And...I would have to kill  _ him _ for it. If I didn’t, I fear I may turn into Máechann.”

There was a deafening silence. They surely understood the weight of what he had said.

“I will call again soon.”

He hung up, and climbed back into the bunker.

*

He could feel a noise sitting in his throat. It fluttered like a songbird fighting to get out of a cage. It made him itch like an addict on the dry.

He wanted to get it out. He screamed as loud as he could, but that wasn’t the  _ right _ noise; that wasn’t hat itched in his throat. It was something else. It was something louder, something deeper. He could hear it in his head but he couldn’t make it leave his mouth.

He couldn’t scream for much longer. The walls were getting too close. They moved every time he made a noise. They would crush him if he kept screaming.

Shadows danced on the walls. He didn’t want them to get closer, either. He didn’t know what they were, but he knew they were bad. They were angry at him. They wanted to kill him.

His mouth was so dry. It felt like he hadn’t even  _ seen _ water for months. His mouth tasted like dry sand and hot air.

What was that smell? What was it?

Like a newly fired gun, burning metal and gunpowder. And...sugar. Molten sugar. A warm, sweet scent that filled him to the brim every time he inhaled it. It made his head spin, as if someone shot him up with morphine.

It came closer and closer, more and more it filled his head. It felt like he was floating.

Something wet his lips. He lapped at the wetness, helplessly, desperately.

*

Jeremy’s eyes exploded to black again.

He lunged forward after the blood bag, almost catching Ryan along with it.

The plastic popped as Jeremy bit into it. It bled into his mouth, it poured over him and colored him red. He drank. He drank all that he could. All that he could reach, he took.

_ A bell once rung cannot be unrung. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a lot of emotions about this


	7. Chapter 7

Ryan paced.

He paced, he watched, and he waited.

It had only been a handful of minutes.

Jeremy sat leaned against the wall. His scent had already changed almost completely. There was still hints of life in it, but they were dying fast. It wouldn’t be long before his body was dead. Once he died, that’s when things got hairy.

Ryan listened to his heartbeat. It was off rhythm. It was staggering. His heart was on the homestretch of a marathon, and it wasn’t going to last much longer. Even if Jeremy hadn’t been going through the turn, his heart wouldn’t have been able to keep going like that.

He froze, when it finally gave it’s last beat.

He breathed in. There was only the smell of a fresh corpse.

This was the worst part. Jeremy could be dead for seconds, or upwards to the hour; that was the longest turn Ryan had head of, at least. Gods only know if that was the limit, or if it could take even longer. Ryan would prefer not to find out.

He paced and waited for some minutes.

Nothing happened. The corpse was still a corpse.

Jeremy...his body was so pale. Unseeing eyes stared at the ceiling, and his mouth hung open. He looked almost  _ shocked, _ at having died. Ryan wanted to show some respect, and close the boys eyes, but...he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He tried to reach out and touch his face, but Gods, it felt like he was dying.

He sat down instead. Had to get his mind off it, or he would go insane. He could feel it. The  _ not knowing _ was eating at his nerves, and the sight of Jeremy’s corpse made his nauseas.

He pulled Miles’ laptop and hard drives from his backpack, as well as his cellphone. Miles thought this  _ sauce _ person was important enough to bring to Ryan’s attention; Ryan wanted to know why. And he had to find a witch, too. They still needed another daywalker spell.

The phone appeared useless to Ryan. There were a few names in the contacts that he recognized; old acquaintances, no one that would appreciate a call from Ryan very much. He should still call around later. Let people from their community know about...about Miles. He was closer to many of them than Ryan was; they deserved to know.

There were some notes in the calender, but nothing pertinent to Ryan’s objective, as far as he could tell.

The laptop was mostly work stuff. Half-finished reports, time cards, forms and charts and stuff that probably made more sense to a cop than to Ryan. He plugged in the hard drives with a cable he talked Gavin into lending him; the Brit was surprisingly protective of all his tech.

Okay, Ryan didn’t see why one man needed  _ that much _ pornography, but he decided to do Miles a favor and not question neither the amount nor Miles’ taste too much. Ryan  _ really _ didn’t want to know what was in the file labeled  _ ‘Hentai: Tentacles??’. _ Well, he could hazard a guess, but he rather not have to claw his own eyes out. He deleted it.  _ All of it. _

Games, movies, music, Miles’ writings. Ryan made a mental note to read it all. Miles had shown him some of his work once. Ryan had enjoyed it very much, and he could only assume Miles had gotten even better at telling his stories. He almost couldn’t wait for a moment of peace, where he could sit down and go through it.

He flipped through the folders of photos slowly. He remembered the sixties, when they were in the UK. Miles had spent a big chunk of the money he had managed to save up on cameras and rolls of film. As far as Ryan knew, the first thing Miles did in every new life was get his hands on a camera. At some point in the last few years, it seemed he had had them all digitalized. Smart move, honestly. Saved on having to drag them around in albums and such. By the counter on the computer, there were close to,  _ Gods, _ thirty thousand photos on the hard drives.

He opened the folder names  _ 2010-?? _ That was when they got to Los Santos. He wondered what kind of stuff Miles had taken pictures of around here. The view from Chilliad, from the Vinewood sign, from the top of the ferris wheel at the pier; the waves crashing into the beach, the bonfires at night, the sunset, the night sky in all its glory. More selfies than Ryan could count, with seemingly everyone Miles had met. There was one of him and Miles; the boy beamed like the sun, and Ryan...he looked grumpy.  _ Annoyed, _ at being dragged in for a picture.

It was taken just a week, or so, after they came to the city. They had only met up that day so Ryan could let Miles in on the setup with Elyse and the blood bank. Miles had wrapped an arm over Ryan’s shoulders and pulled him closer, then snapped a picture with his phone.

Ryan wished he had been smiling.

The chains rustled as Jeremy moved.

Ryan shut the laptop and hurried to sit beside the newborn instead.

“Jeremy? Can you hear me, Jeremy?”

He kept his voice as low as he could, wary of Jeremy’s newly heightened senses.

Jeremy groaned softly, brows furrowing. He opened his eyes slowly. He looked around at where he was, seemingly trying to understand what had happened. Ryan leaned over him and offered a soft smile.

“Hi. How are you...feeling?” he asked.

The newborn blinked a few times, before focusing closer on Ryan’s face.

Ryan remembered going through this phase, where every sight was a marvel, thanks to the sharpness of new eyes.

*

It felt like his brain was overheating. There was too much going on at once to process it all, and it was driving him nuts!

It was like looking at the whole world through a microscope, and seeing it in perfect clarity.

He could see  _ everything; _ he could count the pores on Ryan’s nose and see the sandy beard-hairs sticking out of their follicles. He saw every little bump in the concrete walls, every imperfection. He looked down at himself; even when they were chained to his waist, he could see every rivet in his hands, every little mark and scar, every valley of his fingerprints.

Ryan opened his mouth, and his voice sounded like a foghorn right next to Jeremy’s ear. It was hard to listen to. But, after the first word, his head seemed to catch on somehow. It turned down the volume for him, or maybe he did it himself. Either way, he was so glad it got done.

”-are you...feeling?”

He tried to answer. His voice came from his dry throat as a muted hiss. He swallowed dryly a few times, tried to clear his throat.

“I’m...I’m okay.”

His voice still sounded a little off, but at least he’d made the words come out.

Ryan nodded. He pet Jeremy’s head carefully.

“Do you want to sit up?”

He nodded.

When he tried to move, his body felt all...stiff and tired. It felt like his joints had frozen in position, and his muscle felt like he’d just spent a straight week at the gym. Ryan helped him as carefully as he could. The concrete was cool against his back. It was refreshing.

“What happened...?”

Ryan sat beside him, their shoulders touching.

“I won’t beat around the bush. I’ll just come out and say it. After the fight with Máechann, or during, however you prefer to put it, she forced you to ingest her blood. You entered the turn. When I asked what you wanted, to complete the turn or remain human, you told me to complete it. I fed you from a blood bag roughly forty minutes ago. The turn is complete.”

It was like a shitty movie; there was a record scratch, and a freeze frame. Jeremy’s brain stood still.

The turn? He...he was a vampire? A vampire.  _ A vampire! _ A fucking vampire...? He told Ryan to...? He said he wanted it? Told him to  _ complete the turn, _ or whatever?

“I know this might be hard to process. Do you want to talk?”

Jeremy didn’t hear him at first. Or, he did, but it didn’t quite make sense in his head for a moment. He was still kind of working on the whole  _ he was a fucking vampire _ thing!

“Can you...untie me?”

Ryan nodded. “Of course. I apologize about the chains and all that, really.” he said, as he pulled a key from his pocket and got to work on Jeremy’s ankles. “You’re not yourself during the turn. It drives you to kill and feed. I didn’t want you to end up hurting yourself, or our friends. I know you would never forgive yourself if you hurt anyone in the Crew.”

It was as if he could breathe for the first time, when the shackles loosened from his ankles and wrists and waist.

“The collar has to stay, I’m afraid.”

“Why...?”

Jeremy massaged his sore wrists.

“Until you learn to control yourself. I know, it might seem as though you’re in control right now, but...will you still be in control, when a human is put in front of you?”

His stiff shoulders shrugged.

He couldn’t answer that question. He never, in his whole life, thought he’s have to answer a question like that.

He felt...fine.

His eyesight felt a little weird, and his hearing seemed to need some honing, but...other than that? He felt fine.

“Let’s do an experiment.” Ryan said, and go up.

“What? What kinda experiment?” Jeremy asked.

Ryan didn’t answer. He grabbed the bag that lay a bit away from where Jeremy sat. Jeremy took a breath; cotton, polyester, plastic, metal, and...something. There was something else too.  _ Something _ he knew, but couldn’t quite place.

The moment Ryan held it up, Jeremy knew what it was. Blood. Blood, a blood bag.

Jeremy stared at it, eyes feeling like they were melting at the mere sight of its glory. He could smell it so clearly. It made his mouth water, his stomach rumbled, his insides were electrified.

*

His eyes were black again.

His face bled, as his mouth split. It always did that the first few times a newborn shifted, until their body got used to the other form as well. His lips parted, gaping mouth widening all the way to his ears. Teeth erupted from his gums, pushing past the ‘normal’ ones. A long tongue hung from the side of his mouth, slobbering at the thought of feeding.

He was fast, but Ryan was faster.

As Jeremy lunged at the bag, Ryan snatched it away, spraying the newborn with the verbena water instead.

Jeremy fell back as if the water had been acid. He let out a monstrous wail, accompanied by the his of skin sizzling. He pawed helplessly at his face in an attempt to get the burn away.

He took no joy in hurting Jeremy. But he had to do it. He had to show Jeremy exactly how out of control he was.

But it was a good first step in training, too. Ryan and Jeremy both saw the lack of control, and as training proceeded, they would at least have something to compare progress to.


	8. Chapter 8

“Why did I talk about it?”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I need a few more details.”

Jeremy sighed. He scratched at the burns on his face. Ryan had to remind him not to do that while they were healing.

“Things’re... _fuzzy, _ at best. But I remember waking up in the penthouse, in your room.” the newborn continued, occupying his hands by fiddling with the chain connected to his collar instead. “You told me what Meg did. And...I could talk about it. I could tell you. But she made it so I couldn’t. Is it...because you killed her?”

Ryan shook his head. “No. A vampire cannot compel another vampire. When she fed you her blood, you started becoming a vampire, so her influence over you began to wear off.” he said.

He watched Jeremy’s face. The burned skin seemed to melt away, slowly. The marks faded and smoothed.

“If there are any traces of it still left in your mind, it will wear off soon.” Ryan added. “She can’t control you any longer.”

“Thank God...” Jeremy sighed beside him. “It’s like I can still feel her voice in my head. Like, it’s trying to make me do stuff, but it’s like...she’s standing too far away for me to make out the words. I can hear her voice, just...not the words. If that makes sense?”

Ryan knew that feeling well. He felt it every time he thought of her. A distant echo of her voice, singing at the back of his mind. It was almost like being wrapped in a warm blanket; despite all that she had done, her voice still reminded Ryan of home. It still reminded him of Eóchgarr, and their village, and his parents and siblings, and everything that life had entailed for him. She was still, in some small way, the love of his life. He figured she would remain that forever. How could he stop loving her? She had carried and birthed his son, who was truly the greatest love Ryan had ever known. For that, he’d always love her.

“Why’d you walk out?”

“I fear I may need more details here, as well.”

Jeremy seemed to be pointedly looking away from him; his eyes wandered to everywhere but Ryan.

“When I...y’know? We...kissed.”

The newborn let out a great sigh, and scrubbed over his head of hair.

“Fuckin’ listen to me. Sound like a fuckin’ lovesick fourteen year old...”

Gods, no, Ryan was no good at this! At talking about how he felt. He could talk for hours about anything and everything else, but his own feelings? He may as well have been a mute!

What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t even sure  _ why _ he reacted that way. Jeremy had just suddenly been kissing him, and Ryan’s brain wasn’t sure how to handle that. Because it was  _ Jeremy; _ wonderful, lovely, smart, funny, kind, brutal, gentle, violent,  _ perfect _ Jeremy had kissed him and stolen all sense from Ryan’s head.

And he’d been scared, hadn’t he? That Jeremy would taste death on hi lips, and know that no good came from Ryan, because how could any good come from the dead? He had been afraid. He had feared that...Jeremy would stay human, and Ryan would have to watch him die. He had feared that Jeremy would turn  _ for _ Ryan, and grow to resent him for the suffering this eternal life was, and Ryan was certain that would be a fate worse than any else.

Salt filled the air. Oh, Gods, no...Jeremy sniveled, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand.

“I was...scared.”

Jeremy looked at him. His eyes were already red and puffy.

“Of what?” he asked.

His voice broke with the tears.

“Of...everything.” Ryan said. “It’s...been a long time. Since I felt... _ this way. _ About someone.”

Jeremy wiped his cheeks again.

“What way?”

Ryan had to shrug. He leaned his head back against the wall they both sat by.

“You...make me feel like...like my heart is beating. Like...there is still life in me somehow. You make me feel alive.”

Jeremy seemed to be on the verge of outright sobbing.

“And for someone who’s been dead for twelve hundred years, that is very frightening.”

Jeremy grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and Ryan to himself. They kissed.

Ryan could swear his heart was pounding in his chest, racing away with him. And Gods, it felt good.

He felt Jeremy’s chest thrum against his, a deep growl vibrating inside the smaller man. His monster,  _ his animal, _ wanted to claim a mate. Ryan could smell it on him, smell the desperate want and primal need. His own monster howled in his head, for him to do what he should have done long ago; stake his claim, and make his mark.

He took Jeremy’s head in his hands, and leaned into him. He didn’t taste like death, which Ryan had feared; Jeremy tasted like lavender and gasoline and gun oil. Ryan couldn’t get enough of it.

*

Jeremy sat up straighter. He took Ryan’s shoulders in hand, and with ease moved to straddle his outstretched legs.

His lips tasted like strawberries and sugar and whipped cream, and his tongue was a force to be reckoned with.

It was a little hard to tell what was happening. That voice that sounded like Jeremy’s own but  _ not _ at the same time was whispering in the back of his mind. The smell of Ryan was making him dizzy. Fabric ripped and tore; Ryan’s bare chest was warm against his own. Which he thought was weird because they were both technically dead, but that thought fled from his mind rather quickly when Ryan’s hands moved to work his belt. Jeremy’s little voice said  _ fuck it all _ and he could feel himself rip his own slacks to shreds.

Ryan’s deep humming growl sounded like a goddamn symphony to Jeremy’s ears. Fingers ran down the cleft of his ass, and he somehow felt strangely... _ wet? _ Wait, that couldn’t be right.

Despite the whispering voice having turned to screaming, Jeremy planted his hands on Ryan’s shoulders again and pushed him back. The concrete cracked behind the old vampire as Jeremy slammed him back into it. And  _ Jesus, _ that pungent stink of burning cream and melting sugar that the voice told him was Ryan’s  _ arousal _ just got fucking stronger.

“Wait, wait.” Jeremy said, out of breath despite not needing it.

Ryan breathed heavy as well, black eyes staring up at him and strong hands groping the flesh of his ass.

“What is it?” Ryan asked quickly, though. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

The blackness in his eyes seeped away, swirling down the drain of his irises. Jeremy, still feeling wet, felt down his own ass. God help him if he fucking shit himself or something; he’d die of embarrassment. And that was saying something, since he was already dead. But,  _ fucking thank God and all the fucking saints, _ he found only a strange, clear lube-like substance. It was warm and sticky and slick, and it smelled kind of...sweet.

“What the fuck?” he said, staring at his wet fingers. “ Why’s my ass wet?”

Ryan nodded quickly; they both choked down matching groans as he tried to sit up better, and the movement ground their bodies together.

“Well, uh, vampires are, technically, part of the, uh, animal kingdom, and the animal kingdom sees no flaw with homosexuality.” He explained hastily. “So it’s, um, it’s just kind of a thing with our bodies. A-A male reacting to the scent of a male sexual partner. We...we secrete. Like human females. And vampire females. We get wet. Bodies getting ready for homosexual coitus. I’m doing it too, don’t worry. It’s not weird.”

Okay, so that was definitively something popular media didn’t teach Jeremy about vampires. But honestly? The smell of that slick stuff, both his and Ryan’s, was fucking intoxicating; it felt like he’d just downed a whole bottle of Jägermeister, and goddamn, he  _ needed _ to fuck. Christ, it felt like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t fuck, or get fucked.

“Okay. Okay. It  _ is _ weird,” he said. “-and you’re gonna explain that shit to me later, but,  _ Jesus, fuck, _ I really don’t give a shit right now, I just really want you to fuck me as hard as you can.”

Ryan nodded again; Jeremy moaned when those long, thick fingers ran through his slick again.

“Yeah. I can do that.”

He, with one hand, dragged the rubber band out of his hair, letting loose long locks of black gold that Jeremy couldn’t resist wanting to grab onto, and with the other, he continued toying with the slick. They kissed again, as two fingers pushed into Jeremy.  _ Good God almighty, he’d never fucking felt anything that good before. _

“Do it, I can take it.” he muttered into Ryan’s sweet lips.

“Sure?” Ryan asked back, refusing to let him out of the kiss.

_ “So sure.” _

Ryan grabbed his arm and threw him. It registered belatedly that Jeremy ended up on the ceiling, looking down at Ryan as he stripped out of his jeans. Ryan leaped after him. Concrete cracked with a deafening back. A bunker was probably the best place they could have superpowered vampire sex for the first time, Jeremy pondered to himself for a moment while Ryan’s body enveloped him again; God knows what kind of damage they would have done to the penthouse.

The voice in his head screamed again, and Jeremy was pretty sure he was too, when he felt Ryan enter him. It hurt just a little, ever so slightly; the slick made it so good, his whole body felt  _ alive _ even though he was dead.

Ryan fucked him like a goddamn animal; harder than humanly fucking possible, and he could feel the concrete giving under him. Or above him, considering they were on the ceiling. Whichever. He could feel his nails,  _ claws maybe, _ digging into Ryan’s back and Ryan seemed to fucking love that shit so he kept going. There was growling and roaring and it smelled like something truly fucking animalistic. The kissing was more biting, the concrete was turning to fucking dust, and he could taste Ryan’s blood when he bit into his neck and could  _ feel _ Ryan taste his blood too when he bit into Jeremy’s neck.

Jeremy could do this forever, and ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am dead <3


	9. Chapter 9

Ryan held up the blood bag.

Jeremy stared at it with wide, dark eyes. The shift was tugging at his mouth, jaw waiting to unhinge and cheeks readying to split, but he was fighting it. He was fighting the monster, trying his hardest to keep it in its cage.

He popped the cap on the tube inserted into the bag, opening it and releasing another wave of its scent.

A shiver visibly ran through Jeremy. His whole body trembled. Ryan watched, as he clutched his hands into tight fists and planted them against the floor. Jeremy inhaled a deep breath, drawing the scent into himself, and exhaled it again.

He was doing well. He was grounding himself, keeping hold of what remained of his humanity. Ryan was impressed; the boy had already made great strides towards control, in such a short time. Maybe he was ready for human trials.

“How do you feel, Jeremy?”

The newborn breathed slowly; the repetitive action seemed to be helping.

“It’s...”

He wiped the back of his hand across his face, as if to dry the sweat. There was none, of course.

“I’m...okay. The smell. It’s...It’s hard. The voice keeps...it keeps tellin’ me to let go. To give in to him.”

Ryan approached carefully; he was still wary of outbursts. A hungry animal as a dangerous animal, he knew that well. He took a knee before his mate,  _ Gods, it was going to take him a while to get used to that, _ and offered him the bag.

“Your monster is your greatest ally, and your greatest enemy.” he said gently.

Jeremy’s hands relaxed, tight fists turning into soft palms against the cold floor. With another deep breath, he reached out to take the bag. He took the tube into his mouth and suckled on it like a straw. A look of utter relief and ecstasy filled his face the moment the blood passed his lips.

“Believe me, it will take some time to get used to having another voice in your head.”

Jeremy paused in his feed. “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to having Evil Mini Me whispering in my ear.” he said with a humorless snort. “How’d you do it?”

Ryan had to smile at the small joke, as he sat down fully. “I’m not sure I really did.” he admitted. “Sometimes he talks to me, or  _ at _ me, and I’m still...surprised. Just for a moment.”

“But...how d’you handle it?” Jeremy asked, between sips from his bag. “I mean, do you just...ignore it? Him? Does it have a name?”

The elder shrugged. He pulled his knees up close to his body, hugging them to his chest.

“I haven’t named him, and he hasn’t asked for a name. As for how I handle him? I...try to ignore him. He has no power over me, if I give him none.  _ But _ that is not to say that I don’t need him. And you need yours. They are  _ us, _ just as much as we are.”

“So I just...ignore it?”

Ryan had to shrug. He honestly couldn’t say.

“You handle it. However you can. Ignore it, embrace it...I can’t decide that for you.”

He got to his feet.

“I’ll be back soon. I need to talk to the Crew, and...get you someone to eat.”

*

The hatch closed with a heavy clang; he slid the thick padlocks into place and locked them. Jeremy was smart enough to stay down in the bunker, he knew that, but...better safe than sorry. Gods know what his monster could talk him into.

“Miles?”

Ryan’s claws extended. He turned to the voice, processing the whole world in a matter of microseconds.

There was a man there, Ryan didn’t know him; he knew his face, though. He’d been in Miles’ pictures. They were friends. In the seventies, maybe, if Ryan had to guess by the clothes they had been wearing in the photos. In those years, when Ryan had left his Sire to his own devices for some three, four years. But the man standing before him was still a fresh-faced twenty-something boy. How? Didn’t smell like a vampire, too solid in visage to be a ghost, too lively-looking to be a ghoul or a poltergeist. A demon? No, didn’t smell like sulfur. Not an Angel either, no stink of ozone and self-righteousness.

_ “Who are you?!” _ the stranger shouted.

He waved his hand; as if grabbed by a hundred invisible hands, Ryan as dragged backwards. His body was slammed into the trunk of a tree. Its branches moved like arms. They reached down and wrapped around Ryan, holding him stock still. Stakes burst out from the innards of the tree; two sat themselves against his throat, and one placed itself over his heart. He could feel its point pressing into his skin.

“Where’s Miles?! Why do you have his ring?!”

Ryan struggled to breathe; he needed the air to make words.

“He’s-“

_ “Tell me!” _

The hold of the branches tightened around his body. He could feel his ribs starting to give and fold.

“He’s dead!”

The stranger, a witch, stomped across the space between himself and Ryan.

“Who killed him? Was it  _ you? _ D’you do it for the ring? All you fucking leeches...you’re all the same in the end, aren’t you?”

_ “He gave it to me!” _ Ryan shouted, voice strained from how his body was being slowly crushed. “I tried! To save him!”

The witch held up his clenched fist. He unfurled it slowly, and as he did, the hold of the branches lightened. He didn’t release Ryan yet, but at least the vampire could breathe enough to speak.

“I’m his Sire. There was another vampire. Someone from my past. She...she killed him.  _ I tried _ to stop her, and  _ I tried _ to save him, but...I failed. But she’s dead now. I ripped her to pieces and set the pieces on fire. She’s ash.”

The witch rested his hand on Ryan’s head; his head fell back limply, with a sharp inhale. Ryan saw his eyes turn white.

The memories flickered in Ryan’s mind;  _ the beach, trying his hardest to fix Miles, watching the body burn, fighting Máechann, ripping her apart and burning her away. _

The witch woke up from this  _ trance, _ he had been in. He blinked away the whiteness and stepped back. The branches untangled from around Ryan’s body, freeing him.

“He’s gone...” the witch said softly.

“My condolences.” Ryan said. “I saw you in his photos. You were friends.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Diaz. Alfredo Diaz.” he said, offering his hand to the vampire.

“Ryan.” the vampire returned, and shook the witch’s hand. “How did you find me?”

“The ring. I tracked it. Locator spell.” Alfredo explained. “I...I had a vision.”

A vision? Not only was he a witch, but a clairvoyant one at that.

“Come with me.” Ryan said. “I have work to do, and no time to waste. Piggyback, or fireman’s carry?”

“What?”

“Fireman’s carry it is, then.”

He grabbed the witch and threw him over his shoulder, then set off towards the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ill be the first to say it, Alfredo might be a little OOC, I guess? I mean, I never watched his content before he started doing stuff with AH, so I havent really 'learned' how to write him yet?  
> ANYWAY  
> hope its okay!


End file.
